


Remember, Remember

by rox2the_anne



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caring, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Nudity, POV Simon Snow, Pining Simon Snow, Roommates, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Watford (Simon Snow)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rox2the_anne/pseuds/rox2the_anne
Summary: Simon receives a head injury during football practice. He loses all of his memories. Baz is there for him.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow & Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 30
Kudos: 260





	1. Chapter 1

“I think he’s waking up.”  
“Simon? Simon, can you hear me?”   
I open my eyes to an unexpected scene. At least ten guys are standing in a circle around me, and they’re all wearing green and purple football uniforms. I’m on my back in the grass, though it isn’t clear why.  
One of them, tan with blonde hair, kneels down in front of me and holds up what I think is a peace sign.  
“How many fingers am I holding up, mate?” he asks.  
“Uh… two?” I say.   
I don’t know why it comes out as a question. It’s definitely two fingers. I guess I’m just confused by him asking me such an obvious question.   
I try to stand up, but someone, a boy with red hair and freckles, puts a hand on my shoulder to guide me back down.   
“Don’t try to get up,” he says, “Help is on the way.”  
“Help?” I choke.  
I’m starting to panic. I try to sit up again and this time, a different boy, handsome and pale with long dark hair pulled back into a bun, puts both of his hands on my shoulders and holds me still.   
“For Crowley’s sake, Snow, just stay put,” he commands. “Don’t make me spell you to the ground.”  
I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but it doesn’t sound good, so I stop resisting him.   
“Look, here comes Dev,” someone says.   
I hear someone else run up to our group. He sounds out of breath.   
“The nurse wasn’t in her office. I don’t know where she is.”  
“Did you check the actual infirmary? Someone may be ill.”  
“No, should I?”  
“We need to get Simon to the nurse now.”  
“Try the dining hall. It’s nearly lunch.”  
The boy who is holding me down is frowning deeper with each word the other’s say.   
He curses under his breath, “Sod this.”   
He squats down next to me and places one arm under my neck and the other behind my knees.   
“I’m going to lift you now, Snow,” he tells me, and then he does. A sharp pain courses through my skull, and I think I hear the boy apologize, but I can’t be sure.   
He starts walking towards a tall brick building with a turret, then makes a right towards a shorter, longer building.   
“What happened to me?” I ask the boy.  
“You were hit with a football,” he says.   
“And where are you taking me?”   
“The infirmary, obviously.”  
“Will the nurse be there?”  
“Shut up, Snow.”  
“Why do you keep calling me that? I thought my name was Simon.”  
The boy suddenly stops and looks down at me. His eyes search my face for a moment. I’m not sure what he finds, but he starts walking again, faster now.   
It occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, I should know where I am and who he is. Panic sweeps over me once more, then a blinding pain shoots through my head again until everything goes white. 

I open my eyes to more white.   
When I turn my head, I see two girls sitting in chairs next to my bed. One of them, a chubby dark skinned girl with wild, purple hair and glasses is smiling at me and the other, a pretty, pale blonde is sleeping with her head propped against the wall behind her.   
I look around and see that the room is mostly white with the exception of an ugly square, green couch in the corner.  
“Hi,” the girl says quietly, as if she’s afraid of spooking me.  
“Where am I?” I ask her.   
“You’re in the infirmary… at Watford. This is your school. Do you know who I am?”  
I shake my head.  
“I’m Penelope. Bunce… I’m your best friend. You call me Penny or Pen… You’re Simon. Simon Snow,” she gives me each bit of information slowly and carefully.   
“And her?” I ask, gesturing to the blond.   
“She’s your friend too,” Penelope says, “Agatha.”  
“How long was I out?” I ask.  
“Just a few hours…”she bites her lip, “Well, thirty-one.”  
I’m not quite sure what to say, but Penelope more than makes up for it. She tells me that Agatha’s father is a doctor and that he’s already been in to see me. She says that my CAT scans look promising, but I have what’s called “Retrograde Amnesia” which means I took a significant blow to the head and now I don’t remember shite.   
“Is it permanent?” I ask.   
“Not always,” she replies, “Dr. Wellbelove is confident that you’ll have your memories back in a few days. Maybe a week…Maybe a month.”  
“A month?”  
“It’s not forever,” Penelope says, reaching to pat my arm.   
“Right.”  
Before Penelope can say anything else, a woman in long white robes and a funny white hat walks in.   
“Alright, ladies,” she says, waking Agatha up, “you’ve seen that he’s alright, now it’s time to go. Mr. Snow needs his rest.”  
Penelope grabs my hand and squeezes it, then Agatha does the same (only a bit more awkwardly).  
“We’ll come see you first thing in the morning,” she promises.   
“Get some sleep,” Penelope adds.   
The nurse reads the various machines around my bed and takes notes before fluffing my pillows and asking if I need anything. I tell her that I can’t think of anything, so she shows me a button on my bed that will “summon her should I need anything.” She tells me basically the same things that Penelope had then tells me to rest and disappears through the door. After she’s gone, a wave of exhaustion washes over me, and I close my eyes.   
What feels like a moment later, I’m woken up by a soft knock. It’s night now. I look around to find the source of the noise. The window has been opened. The shutter must have tapped against the wall. I check the clock above the door. It’s nearly 2AM. Outside, the sky is dark and starless. A cool breeze flows in from outside and it feels amazing on my too hot skin. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation, and when I open them again, I’m startled by the silhouette of a person in the window frame. I gasp aloud and someone shushes me.   
“It’s just me, Snow,” they whisper.   
The figure walks closer to me and lights the candle by my bed with what seems to be a simple gesture. It’s the boy from before. The one that carried me here.   
“It’s you,” I say, relieved, “I thought I’d dreamed you.”  
The smallest of smiles plays on his lips for a split second.   
“It’s good to see you conscious,” he says, “How are you feeling?”  
“Not too bad,” I say, “The nurse gave me some medication for the pain, now I’m mostly feeling loopy… and confused.”  
“Understandable.”  
The boy walks over to the window to close it.  
“Will you leave it open?” I ask. “I’m boiling.”  
He nods then comes to sit down in the chair that Penelope had been sitting in earlier.  
“Do you know my name?” he asks.   
I shake my head, then regret it. I may need to call the nurse back in after all.   
“Sorry, but no,” I tell him, rubbing my temples, “Like I said, two minutes ago I thought you were a dream.”  
“I’m Basilton Grimm-Pitch. Everyone calls me Baz. Even you.”  
What does he mean ‘even me’?  
I must look confused, so he continues.   
“I’m your roommate. We’ve lived in the same dorm for seven years.”  
Ah, so that’s why he carried me here. We’re friends. I rub at my forehead, trying to release some of the ache.  
“I’ll call the nurse,” he tells me.  
“No,” I say, “she’s probably sleeping.”  
Baz rolls his eyes, “It’s her job to take care of you. It’s what she’s paid for. She’ll be alright.”  
“I can wait a few hours,” I insist.   
“Suit yourself,” Baz says. He seems unhappy with the settlement, and for some reason, it makes me smile.   
Baz smiles back at me, “Is there anything I can do for you?”  
I really can’t think of anything, but I can tell by the look on his face that it would make him happy to be doing something.   
“Water would be nice,” I say.   
Baz stands immediately and, after looking both ways down the hall, exits the room.   
While he’s gone, I look around the room, wondering if any of this should be familiar. Have I been in the infirmary before? I try to think of anything I can remember… My name is Simon Snow. I go to a school called Watford. I play football. My best friend’s name is Penelope. I have a friend named Agatha. My roommate is Basilton Grimm-Pitch. Baz. What about before then? I try to imagine a smaller, younger version of myself, but I can’t… I can’t remember being a child.   
Baz comes back into the room carrying a glass of water in one hand and a small tray in the other. He sets it down on the nightstand beside me, and I see that there are packages of biscuits and crisps on it.   
“I figured you were hungry, so I took this from the nurses break room,” he explains.   
He hands me the water and I drink it greedily. Turns out I was pretty thirsty after all.   
“Thank you,” I say, reaching over to take a biscuit.   
Baz opens a bag of crisps and hands it to me. He doesn’t eat anything; he just watches me eat everything on the tray.   
“Baz?” I say when I’ve eaten the last of the crisps.  
“Yes?”  
“What happened? To my head, I mean.”  
“We were at football practice, and you took a ball to the forehead,” he says simply.  
“Huh,” I grunt.   
“Your feet flew up in the air and everything,” he elaborates, “You were out cold for several minutes.”  
Baz pauses and runs his hand through his hair. He looks upset.  
“I thought you might be dead,” he adds quietly.  
Without thinking, I reach over and put a hand on his arm. He looks up at me surprised.  
“Not dead,” I say with a small smile.   
Baz pats my hand, “Thank Merlin.”  
We sit in silence for a few minutes, which sounds awkward, but is actually really nice. It isn’t until the clock on the wall chimes that either of us says anything.   
“I should go,” Baz says getting to his feet, “You need to rest. Bunce and Wellbelove will be here as soon as the sun comes up, ready to fawn all over you, I’m sure.”  
“Will you stay with me?” I ask. I feel much more at ease with him here, and the thought of him leaving fills me with anxiety.  
Baz gives me another surprised look.  
“Just until I fall asleep,” I clarify.  
Baz swallows and nods, as if he’s unsure of what to say. He combs a hand through his hair again, a gesture I realize he does when he’s nervous. He pushes his chair even closer to my bed then snuffs the candle and sits back down. He folds his arms beside me and rests his chin on them.   
“Thank you,” I say. I close my eyes and fall asleep to the sound of Baz breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” I hear the nurse say. She’s angry.  
“I’m being clucked at by a hen, evidently,” Baz snipes back.  
I open my eyes and shut them again. The room is intensely bright.  
“You can’t just roam around as you please, Mr. Pitch,” she shoots back.  
I blink a few times and try to locate where the voices are coming from. The hallway.  
“Who’s roaming? I’ve been here all night,” he counters.  
“There are designated visiting hours in this infirmary. You are to sign in and out from now on. Do you understand?”  
“If he doesn’t want me to leave, I don’t leave,” Baz grounds out.  
I’m completely surprised at his tone with the nurse. He was so amiable and quiet last night. I reach over and press the red button on the side of my bed. A bell chimes and the door instantly opens.  
The nurse walks in, flanked by Baz.  
“People are trying to sleep around here, you know?” I say to them.  
They both smile at me.  
“I asked Baz to stay,” I admit to the nurse as she fiddles with my bed dressings.  
“Be that as it may, he shouldn’t have been here at that hour to begin with,” she says. She’s much softer with me.  
“Are you hungry?” she asks, “Your girlfriend stopped by this morning and brought some scones and tea for you.”  
I don’t know why, but my eyes dart to Baz when she says this. He looks stoic with his arms crossed and his eyes to the floor.  
“I could eat,” I say, which elicits a soft snort from Baz.  
“Something funny?” I ask.  
“I think you ‘could eat’ all day, every day,” he says.  
I shrug. All I know is that I’m hungry now.  
“Do you want some privacy?” the nurse asks, looking at Baz with suspicion.  
“No, ma’am, Baz can stay,” I answer, “I enjoy his company.”  
The nurses mouth goes tight in disapproval, but she doesn’t argue. She leaves the room stating that she’ll be back to check on me in an hour.  
Baz walks over to my nightstand and takes a wand out of his sleeve. He taps the tray of scones and tea saying, “You’re getting warmer.”  
Steam rises from the scones and the small tub of butter starts melting.  
“Wicked,” I whisper.  
Baz smiles in a satisfied sort of way and sits down in the same chair as last night.  
“You can do magic,” I say. It’s not really a question.  
“So can you,” Baz says then he frowns, “Well, sort of.”  
“Sort of?”  
“You aren’t very good.”  
“Damn,” I say.  
I can feel a heat rising from my stomach to my face. I’m sure I’ve gone as red as I feel.  
“Don’t get in a tizzy, Snow, I was just stating a fact,” Baz says.  
“I’m not angry,” I say honestly. Embarrassed is more like it.  
Baz looks unconvinced but doesn’t say anything more. Instead he swivels a small table from the side of the bed around in front of me, then places the tray of food on it.  
He gestures to the scones, “Eat.”  
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I tuck in to the most delicious scones. They’re the perfect blend of sweet and salty with plump, tart cherries and the butter is…  
“This is bordering pornographic, Snow,” Baz says.  
“You’re telling me,” I agree. “Won’t you have some?”  
“And get between you and your true love? I think not.”  
I frown at him. He didn’t eat last night either.  
“I’ve already eaten,” he says, “You slept through breakfast remember?”  
“Oh, right,” I say.  
I stuff a whole scone into my mouth and Baz looks as if he’ll be sick.  
“So, I have a girlfriend?” I ask, remembering where the perfect scones came from.  
“No,” Baz answers flatly.  
“But the nurse said-“  
“She meant Penelope.”  
“Ah,” I nod and take another bite.  
“Right, well, I should head to class,” he says.  
He puts a notebook into his shoulder bag then turns to face me.  
“Don’t give me that look,” he tuts.  
“What look?” I shrug.  
“The Simon Snow puppy dog eyes,” he says, gesturing to my face. “That won’t work on me. One of us has to get an education, you know.”  
“Will you come back tomorrow?” I ask.  
Baz stops in the doorway and sighs. His shoulders slump and when he turns around, his face is unreadable.  
“I’ll be back in two hours,” he tells me.  
I beam at him and he chuckles.  
He leaves then, but I can hear him mumble “Crowley,” from the hall.  
The next couple of days go by in the same fashion. Baz hangs out in the infirmary with me every chance he gets. When he’s not in class, he’s with me. Sometimes he tells me stories about my life here at Watford (they sound like fairy tales), or he’ll try to teach me chess or poker, but mostly he does homework while I watch movies on his laptop (I can’t remember the password for mine.). Penelope makes a few appearances, and Baz usually makes himself scarce when she does. She answers all of my questions and brings photos and mementos that she’s collected over the years. Nothing helps, but she’s determined, and I appreciate it. 

One night, Baz sneaks in after hours with his laptop and an assortment of candies.  
“Don’t get in trouble because of me,” I tell him.  
“I like trouble,” he says.  
He pushes the ugly green couch beside my bed, and sprawls across it. We watch a movie called Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I love it.  
**

“You’re finally awake,” Baz says.  
“Good morning to you too,” I say.  
Baz rolls his eyes, “It’s like noon.”  
I look at the clock, “It’s 11:50.”  
“Yeah. Which is _like_ noon. Any _way_ , I have good news.”  
The smile on Baz’s face makes my heart skip a beat. I place my hand on my chest. Why would it do that?  
“Yeah?” I ask, ignoring my palpitations.  
“Dr. Wellbelove says you can come back to our room today,” he says, “If you want to, that is.”  
“Oh, I want to,” I tell him, “I’ve got to get out of here. I’m getting cabin fever. Plus, maybe going to our room will jog my memory.”  
“Maybe,” Baz agrees.  
“Baz? I’ve been thinking…”  
“Yes?”  
“Where are my parents? It’s been nearly a week. Didn’t anyone tell them about-“  
As if on cue, we hear the footfalls of heavy boots in the hallway and the door swings open. A tall man with piercing blue eyes, and wavy brown hair walks into the room. He’s dressed like… Peter Pan? Baz visibly deflates in his chair.  
“Simon, you’re awake,” he says.  
“Obviously,” Baz grumbles under his breath.  
The man either doesn’t hear him or decides to ignore him.  
“I came as soon as I heard,” he says, “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”  
“Not at the moment,” I say.  
“Good, good,” he says. He sits down on my bed and feels my forehead. I want to ask who he is, but I’m too distracted by his costume.  
“Are you an actor?” I ask.  
The man removes his hand from my head and looks at me perplexed.  
Baz stifles a laugh beside me and we both turn to look at him.  
“Snow, this is The Mage,” Baz tells me, “He’s our school’s headmaster and your legal guardian.”  
“Mr. Pitch, what are you doing here?” The Mage asks as if he’s just noticed Baz’s presence.  
“Visiting, Simon,” Baz responds in a clipped tone.  
The Mage cuts his eyes at Baz and they both have unreadable expressions, so I’m not quite sure what to think.  
“Dr. Wellbelove says I can go to my room today,” I say in an effort to break the tension.  
“Ah, very good,” The Mage says, turning his attention back to me. “Basilton can help you get there, I’m sure. I have pressing matters to attend to at the moment. Do let me know if you need anything of me once you're settled.”  
Baz looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it.  
The Mage stands up, and crosses the room to the door, “I’ll check in on the _both_ of you soon.”  
He closes the door behind himself and we listen to his retreating footsteps.  
“Is he always that weird?” I whisper to Baz, once I believe The Mage is out of earshot.  
“Yes,” he says, and we both laugh.  
**

Penelope has brought me a fresh set of clothes from my room; a pair of jeans and a purple Watford jumper that says Lacrosse. I take it into the bathroom and change out of my hospital gown. (I’m trying very hard not to question who put it on me in the first place.)  
I can hear Baz and Penelope having a quiet, yet heated discussion about her breaking into our room, and I smile. Does Baz argue with everyone?  
I walk out into the room and they both go silent.  
“Here are your shoes,” Penelope says, handing me a pair of beat up white trainers.  
“Thanks.”  
I take them from her and sit on the bed. When I bend over to put them on, my head starts to hurt, and I wince. Before I can protest, Baz is kneeling before me and guiding my foot into the shoe. Penelope looks positively mystified.  
When he’s finished tying my laces, he stands up and offers me a hand.  
“Ready?” he asks.  
I’m at a loss for words, so I just nod.  
Penelope loops an arm through mine, and we walk like that all the way across the lawn, to Mummer’s House, where Baz and I live. We get many strange looks from the other students; some stop and stare at us, others whisper.  
“I take it they’ve all heard about my incident,” I note.  
“Uh, yeah,” Penelope says.  
There’s something she isn’t saying. She gives Baz a knowing sort of look, but he doesn’t notice. He’s gazing straight ahead, looking completely unbothered.  
“Well, this is where I leave you,” Penelope says when we reach our dorms. “Send for me any time day or night if you need anything. Anything at all, ok?”  
I nod, “Got it.”  
She stands on her tippy toes and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.  
“Baz? Can I talk to you?” she asks, stepping a few feet away from me.  
Baz rolls his eyes and reluctantly follows.  
They hiss at each other back and forth, whispering another argument that I can’t hear.  
“I’m not,” Baz bursts out.  
He storms away from her, past me, and opens the door. He gestures impatiently for me to walk through. I give Penelope a wave goodbye and enter the building. I stand in the foyer for a few seconds then I feel Baz’s breath on my ear as he whispers.  
“All the way up.”  
I shiver and start to climb the stairs as he follows.  
“What was that all about?” I ask.  
Baz sighs, “She doesn’t trust me to take care of you properly.”  
“Why not?”  
“Because no one can ever measure up to her high standards when it comes to you.”  
“You seem to be doing a fine job to me,” I tell him.  
I raise and eyebrow at him and he sighs.  
“It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, Bunce and I aren’t exactly friends.”  
“Ok then. Is that really why everyone was giving us weird looks?”  
“No. They always stare at me. I’m devastatingly handsome, you know.”  
I laugh, “No arguments here.”  
Baz looks at me in an odd way and I continue.  
“And so modest too,” I nudge him with my elbow, and he smiles.  
“Yes, I truly do have it all. It’s a curse, really.”  
We finally make it to the top of the landing and Baz opens the door to our room.  
“This is home,” he announces.  
“Cozy,” I reply.  
He sits down on his bed and scrubs his hand over his face.  
“Tired?”  
“It’s been a long week,” he says.  
I walk over to Baz’s bed and sit next to him. He bristles a bit but doesn’t move away. He swipes a hand through his hair and looks at me curiously.  
Being this close to him feels natural and… good. This close, I can smell his shampoo or aftershave. It’s intoxicating and comforting at the same time.  
Baz clears his throat and points to the door to his left.  
“There’s the en suite if you’d like to take a shower. Might feel good after being bedridden for the past few days,” he says, “Towels are in the cabinet.”  
“Thanks,” I say. I’m afraid that his offer was a subtle hint that I may not smell as good as he does, (and quite honestly, I’m not feeling so fresh either) so I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower. It takes me a couple of tries to get the water to a decent temperature. I take my shirt off and take a good look in the mirror. I’ve been working out, I guess. Good for me. I lean over the sink and inspect the bruise on my forehead and let out a low whistle.  
I take off my jeans and underpants and step into the shower. The water feels amazing, Baz was right.  
Baz… He’s kind of hard to read. He seems to be at odds with everyone he comes into contact with. Why would a handsome, charming guy like that be so antagonistic with everyone? Everyone, except me, that is. He’s been thoughtful and downright kind and consoling. I wonder… Are we _more_ than friends? There’s definitely an attraction happening on my end… And I really shouldn’t be thinking about him in the shower. He’s my roommate for Crowley’s sake. A friend. Friends are nice to each other. That’s all. I reach over and turn the hot water knob to ‘off’ and let the cold water wash over me, clearing my head.  
When I’ve had my fair share of freezing water, I step out of the shower stall and dry off. It dawns on me that I’ve forgotten to grab pajamas on my way to the bathroom. I wrap the towel around my waist and walk out into the common area. Baz is laying on his bed with his uniform still on, earbuds in and his feet on the floor. Must’ve passed out.  
“Baz, are you asleep?” I whisper.  
He doesn’t respond, so I turn my back to him and start searching my drawers for something comfortable. Nothing looks familiar to me. I hold up every t-shirt (which doesn’t take long) and not a single memory comes to mind. I throw one of them onto my bed, along with a pair of sweats, and start searching my drawers for clean underwear. Once I find a pair, I decide that I shouldn’t try to bend over too much, (I’ve learned my lesson from the shoe incident.) so I toss the towel aside, and move to sit on my bed.  
When I turn around, I’m face to face with Baz. He’s standing up next to his bed, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open. He makes a small choked sound in the back of his throat.  
“Um, we don’t get naked in front of each other,” he says in a rush. He quickly throws a hand up over his eyes, but the damage is done. “I guess I should have… told you that?” he adds.  
“No,” I shout, “I didn’t think that. I just… was… naked longer than I thought I would be because I didn’t want to bend over.”  
Baz shakes his head rapidly, eyes still closed, “What?”  
“I thought you were asleep,” I add.  
“Huh?”  
“Oh, Crowley, I didn’t mean that… like that. I wouldn’t muck about naked just because you were asleep. Just- here, I’m going back to the bathroom,” I gather my clothes in my arms and sprint for the door.  
I get dressed (probably faster than anyone ever has) and I sit down on the toilet, holding my head in my hands. I’m completely mortified. Baz must think I’m some kind of pervert now. Perhaps I am. Who’s to say?  
After several minutes of internal swearing, I hear a soft knock on the door.  
“Snow, are you alright?”  
I roll my eyes and scoff. Of course, perfect Baz is incredibly courteous too.  
“Fine,” I say through my hands.  
“Can I come in? Are you decent?” he asks.  
I scoff again, “Yeah, I’m decent.”  
Baz cracks the door and enters slowly with his hand covering his eyes like before. He peels it away timidly and makes a big production of opening his eyes.  
“I didn’t know you were funny,” I say.  
Baz smiles broadly and a warmth pools low in my belly.  
“Are you going to stay in here forever?”  
“I’m considering it,” I say.  
“I’m going to the dining hall to get you some dinner,” he says.  
I look up at him, unsure of how to proceed. I _am_ hungry, but I can’t ask him to do that…he just saw my dick.  
“Don’t worry,” Baz offers, “I know what you like.”  
“No, that’s…fine, I just-” I don’t have the words.  
Baz rolls his eyes and grabs my arm, hauling me to my feet, “Come on, Snow. We’ve been living together for seven years. It was bound to happen to one of us sometime. If I ever see anything I haven’t seen before, I’ll throw a quid at it.”  
I hesitate for a moment, biting my lip.  
“Look, I’m going anyway. I’ve got to eat too.”  
“Well, thank you,” I relent.  
“Brilliant,” Baz says opening the door, “I feel like I need to buy you dinner after that display.”  
I give him a look that I hope lets him know that I am not amused, but I can’t keep it for long. He’s too charismatic for his own good.  
He winks at me then shuts the door behind himself.


	3. Chapter 3

While Baz is out, I take the opportunity to look around our room. We each have bulletin boards above our desks, so I start with those first. Mine is covered with pictures of myself with Agatha and Penelope and a couple of other guys I don’t recognize. There are a couple of birthday cards and drawings pinned up too. Nothing looks familiar, so I search the desk. There are textbooks and notebooks with papers spilling out of both on top, and in the drawers, I find a jumble of pencils, pens, candy wrappers, playing cards, a weird lump of fur, a glowing rock, and a throwing star. I must lead a pretty interesting life.  
I walk over to Baz’s side of the room and hope that something of his will prove helpful. His bulletin board displays a monthly calendar and a daily schedule. His desk is completely bare except for one framed picture of himself with three small girls. His sisters, I guess. I go to open the top drawer of his desk and hesitate. Surely, he wouldn’t keep anything private in his desk, right? I tug it open and find a legal pad, orderly rows of various writing utensils and three mint aero bars.  
I’m sure he won’t mind if I take one. We’re mates, right?  
I pick up one of the bars and pause. Underneath, I find a worn envelope with a photo sticking halfway out. It looks like… me. I put the candy bar down and take the envelope.  
Inside, there are three photos of me. In the first, I’m outside, sitting under a tree and smiling. I look tan, and goofy. In the second, I’m outside again, this time, it’s night and I’m by a bonfire, laughing. In the third, I’m in a classroom, staring off into space by the looks of it. This one has been cut. I can see what looks to be Agatha’s hair and shoulder beside me. I gather she was once the subject of this picture.  
Why does Baz have photos of me in an envelope in his desk?  
Maybe I was right. Maybe we _are_ more than friends…  
I put the photos back in the order that I found them and replace the envelope and chocolate bar. I start scouring through my own things in an attempt to find any evidence of a relationship between us.  
I look in my drawers, my closet, my nightstand. I look under my bed and even pour everything out of my backpack. I don’t find anything to indicate that I’m dating Baz.  
Maybe I’m not. Wouldn’t I have pictures of him on my bulletin board with the others or at least hidden in my things?  
Maybe it’s a secret. I wouldn’t imagine our school would allow us to date _and_ live together.  
“What the hell are you doing?” Baz’s voice cuts through my thoughts.  
I jump up guiltily and spin around to see Baz standing in the doorway holding two paper bags. He doesn’t seem angry, just mildly amused.  
“I was…uh…”  
“Looking for something to jog your memory?”  
“Yeah.”  
Baz wades through my mess and makes his way over to his desk.  
“Ah, shit,” he hisses.  
My heart sinks into my chest, “What’s wrong?”  
“There aren’t any utensils in here.”  
I let out a relieved breath and will my heartrate to slow down.  
“Oh, don’t worry. I found several in some rather odd places around my side of the room.”  
Baz makes a face at me.  
“Why am I not surprised?”  
I point to my desk where five dirty forks are on display, along with an assortment of other odds and ends that I found during my search.  
“Why do you have a monkey’s paw?” Baz asks looking at the shriveled-up lump of fur I found.  
I shrug.  
“Well, don’t touch it again,” he says casually, “They’re usually cursed.”  
My eyes go wide, and he laughs at me.  
He takes his wand out and points at my forks, “Clean as a whistle.”  
He picks one up and hands it to me.  
We both walk over to his desk and he starts pulling food out of the bags. He’s got containers of roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, rolls, steamed green beans, and a large slice of chocolate cake. I pick up the cake first and Baz promptly takes it from me.  
“Nice try. Cake is for good boys who eat their dinner,” he says in faux reprimand.  
“Don’t I get, like, a broken brain pass?” I ask.  
“Cute, Snow. Very cute,” he says, “but no.”  
I blush at him calling me cute and decide not to push my luck. I open the containers of food and dig in. Baz walks over to his bed and sits down with a book and his laptop.  
“Don’t tell me you aren’t eating again,” I whine.  
“I already did,” he says, “Why do you think I took so long?”  
Satisfied with his answer, I eat nearly all of the food by myself, and when I’m finished, I look over at him. He’s focusing hard on whatever work he’s doing. His brow is scrunched up and his mouth is all tight. He looks beautiful.  
“I can feel you staring at me,” he says.  
I decide that the only way to truly get answers will be to ask for them.  
“Can I ask you something personal, Baz?”  
He puts his book down, and now his focused face is directed at me.  
“Sure,” he says hesitantly.  
“Are you…” I pause and lick my lips. I’m losing my courage.  
Baz’s eyes go wide, like he’s nervous of what I’m going to ask.  
“Are we- you know…” I spin my hands around each other in front of me because, obviously, that’s the universal sign for dating, right?  
“Snow, you’re being even more inarticulate than usual. Spit it out,” Baz demands.  
“Are we together?” I ask.  
Baz looks at me like he’s still not sure what I’m asking.  
I sigh, “Are you my boyfriend?”  
“Oh.”  
I wait for a moment while Baz gathers his thoughts.  
“Uh, no, Snow. I’m not your boyfriend,” he finally says.  
“Oh, okay,” I say, doing my best to sound aloof.  
I’m trying to place how I feel. A little embarrassed and- Oh Crowley. I’m disappointed. I’m fucking disappointed. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted him to say yes.  
“Why would you ask me that?” Baz asks.  
I reach up and rub the back of my neck.  
“Well, because you’ve been really great to me. You’ve taken care of me, and you seem… protective even,” I say, “Plus, I’m- I mean, I like you. I feel more at home around you than anyone, so I just thought… I got mixed up, I guess.”  
Baz nods and watches as I walk over to my bed and plop down across from him.  
“I’m sorry,” I tell him.  
“I…” Baz squeaks out.  
He clears his throat and tries again, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re just trying to piece everything together.”  
Baz sounds confident, but his hands are shaky. I’m afraid I’ve really fucked up.  
“Baz, I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird,” I say.  
Baz shakes his head and starts pacing between our beds.  
“No. Don’t. Really. I’m flattered,” he says, “It’s not weird, uh… you and I- that would be- yeah. But you- you can’t remember, so I shouldn’t say…” Baz stops and looks over at me. “I, um… I’m going to get some air.”  
Before I can argue, he’s out the door.  
“Fuck,” I say to the empty room.


	4. Chapter 4

I wait up for Baz until well after midnight, but he never shows. I want to apologize to him again and try to make things less awkward. I wonder if he would feel weird sleeping in the same room as me now.   
When I wake up the next morning, there’s still no Baz, but there is a plate of warm scones and a tea service on my desk.   
I guess this means there are no hard feelings.   
After I finish eating, I take a shower and brush my teeth. I think about taking a walk and wonder if I’m allowed to. I’m not sure, so I stay put. Instead, I clean the dorm. I organize my drawers and throw away all of the trash I found last night. When I’m done sorting out my closet, I clean the bathroom.  
I walk over to Baz’s desk and look at his schedule. He’s in Magickal History right now. Am I usually in that class?  
Dr. Wellbelove and The Mage come by my room to check up on me. The Mage doesn’t say much at first. He just observes while Dr. Wellbelove takes my vitals and asks me a series of questions that I’m unable to answer. At any rate, he tells me that I’m doing well and that he expects a full recovery.   
“When do you think I’ll get my memories back?” I ask.   
“It’s hard to know for sure. These things take time,” he replies.   
“There is something we can do,” The Mage says.  
Dr. Wellbelove shoots him a look of both anger and disbelief.   
“I thought we’d agreed-“ he begins.   
“Oh, come now, Wellby. He’s old enough to decide for himself,” The Mage says, “besides, I am the boy’s guardian, am I not?”  
“What is it?” I ask.  
“There is a spell, a simple one really, that we can perform on you that would potentially bring your memories back.”  
“So, do it,” I blurt.   
Dr. Wellbelove holds up a hand.  
“It’s not that simple,” he says gravely, “The spell has only been used on patients with short term memory loss. You’ve forgotten- well everything. We’d need a considerable amount of power, and there would still be no guarantee.”  
“I’m not understanding the problem. So, I’d just stay the same?” I ask.   
“It would most likely erase any new memories you’ve made since the accident, and worse case scenario… It could erase absolutely everything. We could have to teach you how to talk again- We just don’t know. There isn’t enough research on the spell. I don’t recommend it.”  
I look from him to The Mage who seems unruffled.   
“Think it over,” he says, getting to his feet.   
He walks over to the door and gestures for the doctor to follow.   
“Wait,” I say.  
“Yes?” They both ask, then frown at each other.  
“Can I leave the room?” I ask.   
“Oh yes,” Dr. Wellbelove says, “as long as you feel able, you can go wherever you please. It may even do you some good. Just don’t overexert yourself and make sure you stay with a friend.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
Dr. Wellbelove takes his leave, but The Mage lingers.   
“It’s good to see you feeling so well,” he says.   
“Uh… thank you?”   
“I wanted to ask, has Basilton been treating you well?”  
“Yes, sir. He’s been very helpful.”  
“Very good. It’s good to hear that you two can get along.”  
“Yes, sir,” I say again.  
The Mage leaves, promising to return in a day or two for my answer.   
*  
I found a stack of comic books in my closet while I was tearing through the room last night, so I decide to entertain myself with those until Baz gets back from class.   
He comes in about an hour later. He’s brought more food, of course.   
“Is that for me?” I ask.  
“A peace offering,” Baz says, tossing the bag onto my bed.   
“Thank Merlin. I’m starving,” I say.  
I dump it out and find two large sandwiches wrapped in paper, a bag of crisps, an apple, and a chocolate chip cookie.   
Baz sets his shoulder bag down on his desk and pulls out two bottles of milk. He hands me both of them.   
“Sorry I couldn’t get back sooner. I got held up after one of my classes,” he explains.   
“No worries,” I say, “I’ve kept myself busy.”  
“I can see that,” Baz says looking around our room, “And you’re reading? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a pod person.”  
“Yeah, guess I’m kind of messy, huh?”  
“You’re an animal,” Baz says with a shrug.  
“Gee, thanks,” I retort through a mouth full of turkey sandwich, which makes Baz grimace.   
I swallow before I speak again.   
“So, why the peace offering?” I ask.  
“I felt bad about leaving the way I did. I wanted to apologize last night, but you were sleeping when I returned,” he explains.   
“Oh, that’s alright. I understand. I put you in a weird position,” I say awkwardly.  
“No, it’s not that. You didn’t, I mean. Not really,” Baz takes a deep breath and pushes his hair out of his face, “I’m not good at- at-at…”  
“Constructing sentences?” I supply.  
Baz gives me an unamused look.  
“No, smartass. I’m just not good at talking about feelings or showing emotion.”   
I nod for him to continue and take another bite of sandwich.   
“Oh no, I’m done,” he says, “Admitting that I’m not good at something was plenty of progress for today, I think.”  
I snort and roll my eyes. I’m about to argue that we should maybe have a deeper conversation about all this, but we’re interrupted by a knock on the door.   
Baz hops up, thankful for the distraction, and opens the door.   
“How do you get in here?” he demands.   
Penelope brushes past him and sits on my bed.   
“Well, I was going to ask you to come have dinner with me, but I see you’re already eating,” she says to me.   
“I can pack this back up,” I offer, “I’m dying to leave this room.”  
“Basilton, will you join us?” Penelope asks, even though I know she’s hoping he’ll say no.   
“I’m going to have to decline, Bunce, I’ve got a paper to work on in the library,” he responds.   
“Looks like it’s just me and you, Simon,” she says, clearly giddy.  
I pack up the remainder of my meal and say goodbye to Baz. He says he’ll come to the dining hall in an hour or so, and that we can walk back together, which earns him an odd look from Penelope.   
Being alone with Penelope is more intense than being alone with Baz. I feel the need to please her, whereas with Baz, I feel free to complain and express my worries. I don’t want Penelope to worry about me though. I just want her to be happy. I have a feeling that she feels the same way about me. She’s very careful with her word choices and refuses to even consider worst case scenarios. She talks about the future as if nothing has changed. She insists that I’ll be back to normal and that I’ll remember how close we are ‘soon’.   
“Maybe sooner than we expected,” I tell her.   
Penelope sets her teacup down and squints at me.   
“How do you mean? Are you remembering things?” she asks.   
“No, but- The Mage and Dr. Wellbelove told me about a spell that could bring my memories back.”  
I go on to relay everything that was said about the spell. I leave out the part about Dr. Wellbelove seeming hesitant because I want her unbiased opinion.   
Penelope shakes her head, “I don’t know, Simon. Spells done on the human brain are extremely delicate maneuvers. They’re only ever really done in emergency situations. I know it may sound like an easy fix, but shouldn’t we wait a while longer and see if your memories can come back on their own?”  
I heave out the most dramatic sigh I can muster.   
“I figured you’d say that,” I say.   
“Sorry,” she says sincerely.   
“This is just so surreal and frustrating. I keep hoping that it’s not real.”  
“Me too,” she agrees, “But just remember. You have people who love you, and we’re all here for you. We’ll get through this together.”  
I reach over and take her hand in mine. We stay like that until Baz walks up and clears his throat.   
“Am I interrupting?”  
Penelope and I let go of each other’s hands and shake our heads. Penelope takes a moment to swipe a stray tear off her cheek.   
We say our goodnights, and I follow Baz out into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

“Did you have a nice dinner?” Baz asks. His breath comes out in little white puffs in the cold night air.  
“I did,” I say. I feel as if I’m on autopilot. I consider asking Baz what he thinks about the whole memory spell thing, but I’m not sure how to broach the topic. I reach around to rub the back of my neck and Baz smiles.  
“What?” I stop walking and look at him.  
Something about the cold and the darkness has made us lower our voices.  
“That’s a very Simon Snow thing to do,” he says gesturing to the hand at my neck.  
“Am I not very Simon Snow?” I ask.  
“Well…” he pauses, gathering his thoughts, “you’re still a lovable…bumbling… moron.”  
I bark out a laugh, completely caught off guard by his words. He smiles for a moment, but it fades quickly.  
“But you wouldn’t normally laugh if I said that.”  
“I’ll try to remember to keep my newfound sense of humor,” I say.  
“It’s not that you don’t have a sense of humor,” Baz says. He looks as if he doesn’t want to proceed, but he does, “It’s that you don’t… like me.”  
And there it is. The thing that’s been hanging between us; the source of our tension.  
“I don’t?” I ask.  
Baz shakes his head, “We’re not friends, Snow. Not really.”  
“Why are you saying this?” I ask.  
“Because it’s true,” Baz retorts.  
I take a step closer to him and his breath hitches in his throat.  
“But I like you now,” I whisper. I lift my hand and graze Baz’s jawline with the back of my finger.  
Baz’s expression goes from shocked to elated to devastated in about five seconds flat. I resist the urge to reach out and touch him more. I don’t want him to be sad.  
“You won’t when you remember everything,” he says.  
“What makes you think that?” I ask.  
He looks at me fiercely and I can see the determination on his face.  
“Your opinion of me has already been formed a long time ago. Even if you can’t remember now, you will, and…Simon, I hit you with the ball,” he confesses.  
I snort out a small laugh.  
“You expect me to be angry? Accidents happen,” I shrug, “We’re still friends.”  
I give his shoulder a playful shake.  
“No, you don’t understand,” Baz says stepping out of my grip, “We were arguing all day. I can’t even remember why…and then… I kicked the ball at you as hard as I could. Harder than… anyone else could have.”  
Baz screws his eyes shut like he can’t bear to watch our conversation anymore.  
“You were mad at me…” I say.  
Baz nods.  
“You were mad at me, so you intentionally punted a ball at my head,” I feel heat rising from my belly to my face. It’s different from the pleasant warmth I’d grown fond of. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I back away from him, unable to deal with our close proximity any longer.  
“You could have killed me,” I shout, “I can’t remember my life because of you.”  
“I know,” Baz sobs. “And I’m so sorry, Simon. I won’t ask you to forgive-“  
“So, what was this?” I interrupt, “You were being nice to me to slake your guilt?”  
Baz’s eyes are wide, pleading, “No, Simon.”  
He puts a hand on my arm, but I shake it off.  
“I have to go,” I say.  
I turn away from him and sprint. I have no clue where I’m going. Anywhere is better than with him right now.  
I can hear him calling after me, but I don’t turn around. 

When I reach the rolling hills past the buildings, I have to stop and catch my breath. I wish I knew the way back to our room, or even to Penelope or Agatha’s. I’m exhausted. I spot a small house with a picket fence around it and make my way over to knock on the door. Maybe someone inside can give me directions to Mummer’s. A woman appearing to be in her thirties opens the door. She is tall with short hair, cut bluntly at her chin, and she’s wearing an old Watford jumper that looks like it’s seen better days.  
“Simon, how are you kid? I haven’t seen you in a while,” she says, smiling yet somehow still appearing to be very sad.  
“We’re friends?” I ask her.  
“Of course, we are,” she replies, “Do you need to talk?”  
“Baz and I had a fight,” I admit.  
She nods knowingly and invites me in.  
I’m surprised to see a small goat curled up on her couch, but she seems unbothered, so I don’t comment on it. The television is showing what looks to be a prerecorded rugby game. The woman picks up the remote and pauses it.  
“What are you two fighting about this time?”  
“It’s a long story,” I say, not wanting to get into details, “I’m guessing this is our biggest one yet, though.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that. Fighting with people you care about is always rough,” she says.  
“Apparently, we hate each other,” I correct her.  
She looks doubtful, “Hate is a strong word. A strong emotion. Takes a lot of energy.”  
“Yeah, so?” I press.  
“You in the habit of spending a lot of energy on people you don’t care about?”  
“Maybe I am,” I say honestly. I have no idea what I’m like or what I spend my energy on, “Maybe I’m an idiot.”  
The woman looks thoughtful for a moment, “Maybe… but I don’t think so.”  
For some reason, I feel very at home in this tiny house, so I ask the woman, who refers to herself as Eb, if I can hang out for a while. She seems pleased to have the company. We watch what turns out to be a very old taping of a rugby game, and chit chat about her goats for a bit. She brings me stale cookies that aren’t horrible if they’re dipped in tea, and she draws me a little map of how to get back to my dorm. It doesn’t seem too far, but I definitely ran in the wrong direction.  
**  
I trek back down the hill then through the buildings and find my way easily enough. I think about how my confrontation with Baz will go. How should I handle this? Part of me is so angry at him, but I can tell that he truly was sorry for his violent outburst. I think about what I know about him: He carried me to the infirmary, he snuck in to check on me, he brought me food, he stayed with me all night and the next day… he’s not left my side since then, really. He’s been sweet and considerate and funny… He’s been my friend. But why? If we don’t like each other, then why bother? Is it really the guilt driving all of his actions? I need to find out.  
When I pull myself from my thoughts, I find that I’m already at the door to our building. I climb the stairs and prepare myself for the coming conversation. I’ll calmly ask Baz my questions and do my best to hear him out…  
I open our door and Baz practically launches himself at me. He hugs me to his chest tightly and quickly lets go. He searches my body, more or less frisking me. Checking for wounds, I realize.  
“Stop that,” I say, swatting him away, “I’m fine.”  
“Well I’m glad you’re fucking fine, because I’ve been losing my mind here,” he shouts.  
I blink and look at him in bewilderment.  
“You’re yelling at me?” I ask, dumbly.  
“You’re damn right I’m yelling at you,” he continues, “What the hell were you thinking running off like that with a head injury? You have no idea what lurks in the forest. I thought a werewolf had eaten you. Or worse.”  
“I was with Eb,” I say quietly.  
“The fucking goatherd. Why didn’t I think of that?” Baz asks.  
He sits down on his bed and puts his face in his hands. He takes several deep breaths.  
“Are you finished?” I ask.  
He moves his hands away and frowns at me.  
“If you’re mad at me, you come here, understand? I can go somewhere else if you don’t want to be around me, but don’t run around in the dark like that.” He’s stopped yelling, and now he’s pleading, which is somehow worse.  
“You were really worried,” I say.  
Baz looks angry again, “Yes, I was fucking worried.”  
I hold up a hand to stop him from working himself up again.  
“Why?” I ask.  
“Why what?”  
“Why worry?”  
I walk over to stand in front of where he’s still sitting on his bed. He looks up at me.  
“Snow, when I hit you with that ball and you were unconscious…” He pauses and swallows down the emotion that’s threatening to break through, “I never want to hurt you again. I don’t want _anyone… or anything_ to hurt you.”  
“But you said-“ I begin but Baz stands and places a cool hand over my lips.  
“Can you just let me get this out?” he asks.  
I nod.  
“Good,” he says, “Now listen carefully because I detest confessions and I don’t intend to repeat myself.”  
He looks as if he’s about to be sick.  
“You were candid and honest with me when you asked if we were… together, so I feel like I can be the same with you. I’ve…” he pauses and pulls a hand through his hair then whispers to himself, “Merlin, why is this so difficult?”  
He takes a steadying breath and looks into my eyes. Whatever he finds there seems to give him confidence.  
“Simon, I’ve had feelings for you for a very long time.”  
Suddenly weak, I slowly sit on my own bed.  
“Do I know?” I ask.  
“No, of course not,” he scoffs.  
“Why of course not?”  
“Because I never told you.”  
“Well, why not?”  
Baz scoffs indignantly.  
“Because it wouldn’t have mattered.”  
“How can you say that? I’m obviously attracted to you.”  
“Yeah, now that you don’t really know me,” he snipes.  
“I…” I don’t know what to say.  
“You’ll see that I’m right when you remember how shitty I am.”  
“Why are you being like this?” I ask. This isn’t fair.  
“Because, Snow, I’m not- We aren’t friends. We’re enemies, really.”  
“Isn’t that a little dramatic?” I say.  
Baz looks at me sadly.  
“You just don’t know any better. This isn’t you. It’s not real.”  
“It is though. For me, this is all there is.”  
“You don’t understand,” he says fervently.  
“Then make me understand,” I shout.  
I stand back up and start pacing in front of him. My fists are in my hair and I can feel the heat in me threatening to rise.  
“Snow, calm down. Let’s talk this out.”  
I pause and take a deep breath.  
It doesn’t help so I stalk over to the window and fling it open. I gulp down the cool air and take several breaths. Suddenly, I feel Baz’s hand on my back. He’s rubbing large circles up and down. All of the tension leaves my body and the heat finally subsides. I turn to face him, and against my better judgement, I lean into him. My mouth hovers just above his while I hesitate, and Baz is the one to close the distance.  
Too late, it occurs to me that I don’t really know what I’m doing. I decide that it would be better to stop thinking and just let this happen. Baz places a hand on each side of my face then rakes his fingers through my hair. I slide an arm around his waist and pull him into me. I open my mouth just a bit, inviting his tongue inside and he doesn’t hold back. I guide us to my bed, and gently place Baz on his back, quickly covering his body with mine.  
I kiss him again, this time fierce and hungry. I kiss his mouth, his jaw, his chin, his neck…  
“Snow, stop-“  
I jerk away.  
“Did I hurt you?”  
“No, not at all,” Baz whispers, “I just- I can’t do this.”  
I push away from him completely and sit up. Baz sits next to me and puts a hand on my cheek, gently making me look at him.  
“Not until you remember me. It just isn’t right,” he explains, “If you still want me when you’re… you again...Then, I’m all yours.”  
“I understand,” I say, breathless.  
And I know what must be done.

Baz and I fall asleep in my bed. I’m laying on my back and he’s tucked under my arm with his head on my shoulder and his arm around my waist. I thought about trying to sneak to The Mage’s office tonight, but there’s no way I can get out of here without Baz knowing. I’ll just have to wait until he goes to class in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

I head to The Mage’s office as soon as I’m able. It takes very little to convince him that I’m certain of my decision, but Dr. Wellbelove is another story.   
“You should know that whatever the effects of this spell may be- they’re irreversible,” he says gravely.   
“Yes, sir, I understand,” I reply, “I’ve made up my mind.”  
“Very good,” The Mage says, clapping me on the shoulder, “Shall we head to the infirmary?”  
“Yes,” Dr. Wellbelove agrees, “That would be best.”  
The three of us walk across the lawn together to the infirmary. When we arrive, Agatha and Penelope are waiting at the door, looking thoroughly upset. I shoot a look at Dr. Wellbelove, but he avoids my gaze.  
“You aren’t seriously considering this,” Agatha says, as soon as I'm in earshot.   
“Simon, you’ve thought this through? I mean, really thought this through?” Penelope adds.   
“If that’s all the help you two are going to be, you can just leave,” I tell them.  
“Don’t be like that. We’re concerned about you,” Penelope says.   
Dr. Wellbelove tells me that he and The Mage will be waiting in the same room that I’d stayed in before. The three of us watch them go.   
“You realize The Mage only wants you to regain your memories so you can fight, right?” Penelope huffs, “What does Baz think about this? Surely, he’s not on board?”   
I don’t answer. I look down at my feet, trying to think of what to say.   
“Why does it matter what Baz thinks?” Agatha asks.   
I look up at her. She’s giving me a look that says, “Well?”  
“It doesn’t,” I reply, “I can make my own decisions.”  
“You didn’t tell him?” Penelope asks.   
“Why should he?” Agatha counters.   
“Look, I should really head in,” I tell them.   
“We’ll be here when you wake up,” Penelope says, hugging me tightly.   
“Good luck,” Agatha says.   
She wraps her arms around herself and shifts from one foot to another.   
“See you on the other side,” I say with a wave.   
As I walk away from them, and into the building, I start to feel a surge of adrenaline. I imagine this is what people feel like before they get on a roller coaster. I’m so ready for this. I’m ready to have my life back. I’m ready to be myself.  
When I reach the door, I can hear arguing inside. I figure it’s Dr. Wellbelove and The Mage again, so I don’t hesitate to enter. I was only half right.   
“You aren’t doing this,” Baz says.   
He’s standing between me and The Mage with his arms crossed and his hip tilting to the side. His typical arguing stance. He turns his head to speak to The Mage over his shoulder.  
“He’s not.”  
“Why the sudden interest in Simon’s wellbeing? You’ve never cared what happened to him in the past.”  
“Well someone should now, and it bloody well isn’t going to be you is it?” Baz bellows. He is fully facing The Mage now.   
“I’m perfectly capable of conducting this spell Mr. Pitch, and that is all you need know. Simon trusts me, and this really doesn’t concern you so…” The Mage flicks his wand towards the door behind me and it opens.   
“Baz, perhaps you should go,” I say.   
He looks at me with a mix of hurt and shock.   
“I’ll find you when this is all over,” I tell him.   
“What if you don’t remember me?” he asks, “This spell could go very badly. Not only could you not get your memory back, you could lose all of the new memories you’ve made as well. Just give it some more time, I beg you.”  
I shake my head, “I want my life back,” I say, “I want you- for real.”  
Baz walks to the door, but instead of walking through it, he closes it.   
“I’m staying,” he says.   
The Mage looks at me and I nod.   
“Very well,” he sighs.   
He instructs Baz to sit on the green couch in the corner, and he tells me to lay down on the bed. The first spell he’ll do is a sleep spell, he says, then he’ll get on with the memory one  
“ **Sleep tight** ,” I hear The Mage say with magic.  
As I drift off to sleep, I can hear Baz whispering, “Remember me… Remember me… Remember me…”  
And then I hear The Mage again,  
“Remember, remember the fifth of November. The Gunpowder treason and plot...”


	7. Chapter 7

Before I even can open my eyes, I can hear Baz’s voice.   
“... I know of no reason  
Why the Gunpowder treason  
Should ever be forgot.  
Guy Fawkes and his companions  
Did the scheme contrive to blow…”  
I open my eyes to find him holding a book in one hand, and my hand in the other. He let’s go of my hand to tuck his hair behind his ear, and when his fingers close over mine again, his eyes flick to my face and he jolts back violently.   
“You’re awake,” he says, breathlessly.   
“It seems that way,” I say, “What are you reading?” I ask. I try to nod in the direction of the book, but I find that my head feels like it’s weighted down with stones.   
“Don’t move,” Baz commands.   
He hops up and vanishes through the door. He returns quickly with Dr. Wellbelove and a nurse.   
“Simon, it’s so good to see you awake,” Dr. Wellbelove says.   
“The spell worked then?” I ask.   
He looks confused, “Which spell would that be?”  
“The memory one,” I say, “I can remember things now.”  
“You can? That’s excellent. But Simon, no one has put any spells on you besides healing ones,” Dr. Wellbelove smiles reassuringly.  
He helps me sit up and looks in my eyes with a small flashlight. He listens to my heart and presses his fingers into different areas of my neck and head all the while whispering “Good, good.”  
He tells me that he’ll go inform The Mage of my condition and leaves me with the nurse who asks me a series of questions. I answer what feels like fifty simple questions, all of which I thankfully know the answers to before I get fed up with it and feign being too tired to go on. She excuses herself and Baz and I are finally alone.   
He’s standing in the corner, looking almost terrified.  
“Come here,” I say to him.   
He walks over to the side of my bed and I reach out for him.   
“You want my hand?” Baz asks.   
“Of course, I do,” I tell him.   
“Alright,” he says, slowly wrapping his cool fingers around mine, “Are you feeling alright?”  
“Much better, yeah,” I say, “I’m so glad I can remember my life now.”  
“Me too,” he says, “You gave us all a scare. I carried you here, and you couldn’t remember who I was. Then you passed out-”  
“Yeah, I remember,” I smile, remembering the day, “Then you snuck into my room that night and told me who you are.”  
Baz furrows his brow in confusion.  
“Snow, I stayed in your room the whole afternoon. You never woke up.”  
“What?” I exclaim.   
“This is the first time we’ve spoken since I brought you here.”  
“No, we’ve been speaking every day.”  
“I speak to you everyday. You’ve been… asleep.”  
“For how long?” I ask.   
“About three weeks,” Baz says.   
“Three weeks,” I whisper.   
“Snow, are you sure you’re alright? You’re very pale. I’ll fetch the nurse.”  
“No,” I say, gripping his hand tighter, “No, this isn’t right. I went back to our room. You took care of me… We were friends- and then…”  
“And then what?” he asks.   
Now he looks pale. Paler than usual.   
“And then I-,” I stop myself.   
Baz’s eyes go wide and I squeeze his hand.   
“I kissed you, and you told me that the only way we could be together was if I remembered everything, so I went to The Mage and he put a spell on me. To make me remember… Now I remember.”  
A small smile forms on Baz’s lips.   
“Snow-” he whispers.   
He’s cut off by the door opening. The nurse is back, and this time The Mage is with her.   
“You can go, Basilton,” he says.   
“I want him to stay,” I interject.   
Baz and The Mage both look at me like I’ve just sprouted an extra head.   
“I’ll just- be over here,” Baz says. He plants himself on the ugly, green couch and opens the book he was reading before.   
The Mage doesn’t seem happy about this, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he asks me how I’m feeling and tells me that Dr. Wellbelove expects me to be good as new in a week's time. He confirms that I have been in a coma for the past three weeks and that I was indeed hit in the head with a football. (At least I got that part right.) I have a feeling there was more that he wanted to say, but didn’t wish to share it with Baz.   
“Sir, would you mind asking the nurse to bring me some water? I’m really thirsty,” I say. I want to finish my conversation with Baz without him.   
His eyes linger on the call button on my bed for a moment, but then he says “Of course,” and lets himself out.   
“Baz?”  
“Yeah?” He snaps his book closed and stands up. He seems very nervous.  
“Did you hit me with the ball?”  
Baz lets out a small laugh, “I can see why you’d assume that Snow, but no, it wasn’t me.”  
I nod, “In my dream, it was you.”  
Baz sits in the chair next to my bed.   
“It was so real,” I whisper.   
“Tell me about it,” he says.  
“It’s too much. Literally just three weeks of me not remembering shite and… falling in love with you, I suppose.”  
“Lucky you,” Baz scoots a little closer.  
I snort and roll my eyes, “Tosser.”  
I’m too embarrassed to tell him anything more about the dream, so I change the subject.   
“Do you think I can get out of here today?”  
“I’ll see what I can do,” he responds. He goes over to his bag on the couch and pulls out a cell phone. He dials a number and steps out the door into the hall.   
When he comes back a few minutes later, he looks pleased.   
“Dr. Wellbelove says you can come back whenever you feel like you can. He’ll just do your checkups in our room. I’m to push you there in that though,” He points through the open door to a wheelchair waiting for me, “No arguments.”  
“Let’s go now,” I say. I’m so ready to get out of this place. If I never return to this room, it’ll be too soon.   
“As you wish,” Baz answers.   
We have to wait for the nurse to come in with discharge papers and instructions on ‘home care’.  
When she’s gone, Baz brings the chair into the room and helps me into it. He pushes me down the hall and stops at the nurses station to sign me out. 

On the way to our room, almost everyone we pass says something to me. People mostly say “Good to see you,” or “Hiya” but some of them actually cheer. It’s much more preferable to the weird looks from my coma dream. 

Baz pushes me into the foyer of Mummers House, and pauses.  
“It would be quicker if I carried you,” he says.  
“Uhh…” I look around at myself in the chair. Together it must be at least 200 pounds. How is he planning on doing that?  
Baz rolls his eyes.   
“Not the chair, you dolt.”  
“Right,” I say.   
Baz takes his wand out and points it at me. On instinct I close my eyes. I hear him murmur “Light as a Feather”, and though I don’t feel much different, it’s remarkably easy for Baz to lift me out of the chair.   
As he carries me up the stairs, a thought strikes me.   
“Why didn’t you do that the day of the accident?”  
“It didn’t occur to me,” he says, looking straight ahead, “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”  
“ _Magic_ didn’t occur to you?”   
Baz doesn’t reply. He ascends the stairs without another word, a silent cue for me to shut my mouth as well.   
When we reach our room, Baz unceremoniously drops my legs to the floor. He keeps an arm wrapped around my shoulders while he undoes his spell, then opens the door.  
I look around the room, enjoying all of the now familiar sights.   
“Did you clean my side of the room?” I ask.   
“Of course,” Baz retorts.   
“You know it’s weird,” I begin, but stop myself because I can’t find the right words.   
“Yes?” Baz hedges, raising an eyebrow at me.   
“I can remember not remembering, but in my memories of that time- er of my dream, I mean… Everything was the same. It was this, and I recognize it all now.”  
Baz scrunches his brow and looks side to side in confusion.   
“Yeah, I’m not quite sure I follow you, Snow, so I’m just going to say ‘OK’ so we can get on with our lives.”  
“Yeah, ok,” I laugh.  
I walk over to my chest of drawers and pull out a pair of trackie bottoms and a sweatshirt to change into. Standing here like this reminds me of Baz seeing me nude in my dream, and I laugh.   
“Something funny about your clothes, Snow?” Baz asks from behind me.   
“Nah, nevermind,” I say, and I head into the washroom to shower and change.   
When I come out of the bathroom, Baz is sitting on his bed, reading. He has his knees pulled up to his chest and he doesn’t look up at me.   
“Is it nearly dinner time?” I ask, “I’m starving.”  
Baz scoffs, “Of course you are. And no. You’ve got about three hours.”  
I let out a soft growl and plop down on my bed. I could probably message Pen and get her to bring me some food. I’d love to see her. Really see her. Baz would get pissy if she came to the room though.   
Across from me, Baz sighs dramatically.   
“If I give you food, will you stop with the pouting?”  
“I’m not _pouting,_ , I’m sulking,” I clarify, “but yeah.”  
Baz strides over to his desk and opens the top drawer.   
There, next to the orderly pens and pencils are three mint Aero bars, just like in my dream. Baz picks one up to give to me, and I see a white paper underneath. I’m across the room before I even register what I’m doing. I reach into Baz’s desk-  
“What the hell, Snow? You can only have one,” he says.   
But I’m not going for the candy. I reach in and take the paper. It’s not an envelope though. It’s just a list of book titles. Baz snatches it from me.   
“Can I help you?” he gripes.  
“Sorry,” I say, trying to mask my disappointment, “I thought it was something else.”  
“What could possibly be in my desk that would be any of your business?”  
“I never said it was my business,” I snap, “I just said I thought it was something else.”  
Baz rolls his eyes and tosses the chocolate bar at me.   
**  
When I finish the chocolate, Baz insists that I lay down (and shut up). We don’t talk much over the next couple of hours except for when I sit up and Baz snaps at me to lay back down. He throws more chocolate at me when I tell him I’m still hungry and angrily gets me a glass of water from the bathroom when I tell him it made me thirsty.   
I really need to piss now though, so I’m going to have to get up.   
“What do you need now, Snow?” Baz huffs, snapping his laptop shut.   
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I snipe, “Unless you want to go for me?”   
Baz gestures impatiently for me to go ahead.   
*  
While I’m washing my hands, I look at myself in the mirror. I look pale and thin. In spite of having slept for nearly a month, I have dark rings under my eyes. Maybe Baz made me into a vampire while I was in a coma.   
Was he a vampire in my dream? He must have been. He never would eat around me.   
Thinking of my dream brings to mind waking up. Baz was there. He was reading aloud and… holding my hand.   
I burst out of the bathroom. Baz looks up at me with wide eyes.   
“What the he-”  
“Why were you in my room when I woke up?” I demand.   
“It was my turn.”  
“What?”  
Baz sighs, “Penelople, Agatha and I all took shifts sitting with you.”  
“Why would you do that?”  
“Because contrary to your belief, I’m not a monster... Dr. Wellbelove said it would be good for you to hear familiar voices.”  
“And why were you holding my hand when I woke up?”  
Baz flenches like I’ve slapped him.   
“I wasn’t holding your hand.”  
“Yes, you were.”  
“I’m sure I wasn’t.”  
“But you were-” I’m starting to get angry. I know I’m not crazy. I wasn’t imagining things. Was I still dreaming?  
“Fine,” I concede. I sit on my bed and put my face in my hands. I need to clear my head.   
“Why did you- fall in love with me?” Baz asks. He sounds very close. “In your dream,” he adds hastily.   
I look up at him in confusion. He is close.   
“What was I like?” he presses.   
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug.  
Baz frowns.   
“You were you. Nicer though, I guess.”  
“Nicer?” Baz asks.   
“Yeah, you were… concerned about me. It was nice. I mean, you still yelled at me when you were mad, but-” I shrug again, “you brought me meals and stuff.”  
Baz smiles.  
“And there it is,” he says.   
I snort and roll my eyes.   
“It was more than that. You wouldn’t understand,” I say, laying back on my bed. I close my eyes and throw my arm over my face.  
“No, I get it,” Baz replies, “I fed you and scratched your belly.”  
I can literally hear him smirking. I sit up and glare at him.  
“I’m not a cat.”  
“Of course not,” Baz says, sitting on his bed, “I was thinking more like a puppy.”  
I cut my eyes at him, “And you’re an arse.”  
“An arse you fell in love with,” Baz says mockingly.  
I roll over and growl into my pillow.   
After a few moments, I break the silence.  
“You loved me too,” I say, not turning to look at him.   
I hear a sound like paper rustling.   
“What?” Baz asks, but I know he heard me.   
“In my- dream. You loved me. Before I loved you even. You said you’d kept it secret for a long time.”  
“Since when?” he asks quietly.  
“I don’t know… You had pictures of me. One of them was from fifth year.”  
“I see,” he almost whispers. He looks a bit dazed for a moment then shakes his head and gets to his feet.  
I watch as he pulls a jumper over his t-shirt and walks over to the door.   
“I’m going down to tea. Do you want to come?” he asks.   
I hesitate. I am really hungry, but I’m not up for having everyone stare at me and/or chat me up about my accident.   
I rub the back of my neck as I mull it over.  
“I don’t think I will. I’m, uh, not ready for all of that.”  
“Simon Snow is passing up food?” Baz asks in mock shock.   
“If you see Penny or Agatha, would you ask them to bring me something?”  
Baz agrees and slams the door behind himself.


	8. Chapter 8

I listen to his footsteps until I can't hear him anymore, then I get up. I walk over to my bulletin board. It looks exactly like it did in my dream. Baz’s bulletin board looks the same too. He has more personal items though. There are pictures of him with Dev and Niall next to his daily schedule and a professional portrait of his little sister stuck in his calendar.  
Somehow, I’m completely spent after bickering with Baz all afternoon. I decide that I’ll take a nap while the room is quiet. Hopefully one of the girls will bring me dinner soon. (Probably Penny since she’s the one who can get in.)  
I lay down on my bed and find myself staring at Baz’s bed. I cover my head with my pillow.   
I feel so strange. I’m so, so happy to be myself again, but at the same time I miss who I was in my dream. I was open and honest and uninhibited by all the chaos that fills my mind day and night.   
And Baz… Baz was just Baz, wasn’t he? Is that how we could be if we’d allow it?  
My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. I get up and open it to find Penny standing in the hall. She throws her arms around me and we hug for what feels like five minutes.   
“I saw Baz outside. He said you were back,” she explains.   
She doesn’t have food with her, so I take it Baz conveniently forgot to tell her to bring me some.   
Penny and I sit on my bed and she fills me in on what I’ve missed in classes and around school in general. Doesn’t sound like much. I’m always lost in my classes anyway.  
“Even though I visited you almost every day, I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks,” Penelope says.   
“That’s weird. You were in my dream, so I feel like I just saw you this morning.”  
“I was in your dream?” she asks, “What was I doing?”  
I shrug, “Normal things. Everyone was. I thought it was real.”  
“Nothing interesting happened?”  
“Not really. I mostly stayed in my room… with Baz. He and I kind of… Well, let’s just say, we really liked each other,” I say.   
I rub the back of my neck and avoid her eyes.   
“That makes sense,” Penny says simply.  
“It does?”   
“Sure,” Penny says, laying back and closing her eyes, “You heard his voice more than anyone’s while you were in your coma. He was always reading to you. I think he only left to go to class.”  
“What about when you and Agatha were there?”  
“He’d sulk in the corner and study or read,” she says, “He wanted to be there when you woke up.”  
“Why?” I ask. I feel like someone has knocked the wind out of me.   
Penny opens her eyes and gets to her feet. As she walks to my door she says, “I think coma Simon had things better figured out than you do.”  
I frown at her.   
“See you tomorrow,” she says. And then she’s gone.   
**  
When Baz returns, he’s carrying a basket of freshly laundered clothes in one arm and a large paper bag in the other. He sets the bag down on my desk and says, “Bon appetit.”  
“What’s this?” I ask.  
“What do you think? It’s your dinner. Actually, it’s many dinners. When I told the cook who it was for, she got all excited and put enough food in there for an army.”  
“Why would you-?”   
Baz looks at me clearly annoyed.   
“I saw Penelope when she had already left the cafeteria. I didn’t see Agatha. So. Here we are. You’re welcome.”  
“Thank you,” I say quietly.   
Leave it to Baz to be a dick about being nice.   
I sit down at the desk and start unloading food. Baz wasn’t kidding. These portions are ridiculous. Even for me. I open a container labeled “roast beef” first and dig in.   
“Penny stopped by,” I say to Baz without turning around.   
“So that’s what I smell,” he gripes.   
I roll my eyes. Penny always smells nice to me.   
“She said you were, uh, in the infirmary a lot,” I continue.  
“Did she now?” he asks.   
“Yeah, she said it was almost like you-” I face him now, “care about me?”  
Baz is standing over his drawer with an arm full of folded shirts. He looks frozen, his face expressionless and bored.  
He sighs and drops the shirts in the drawer then slams it shut.  
“What do you want, Snow?”  
I shrug, “I just want to know-”  
“I’m not the Baz from your dream, ok? I’m the same person I was last month. You still hate me and I-”  
“You hate me too. Got it,” I say defeatedly. I turn back around to my meal.   
I eat in silence while Baz finishes putting his laundry away. I look over at my laundry basket. It’s empty.   
“You did my laundry?”  
“It was either that or live with the smell,” Baz says.   
“Well, thanks anyway,” I grumble.   
Behind me, I hear Baz sigh.  
He stomps to his closet and pulls out his suitcase.   
I watch as he unzips a small pocket on the inside and pulls out a worn, manilla envelope.  
He comes over to stand in front of my chair and thrusts it at me.   
“What’s this?” I ask, taking it from him.   
Baz doesn’t answer, he just folds his arms over his chest and glares at me.   
I open the envelope and pull out the contents.   
“It’s me,” I say in surprise. I shuffle through the photos. “They’re all of me,” I whisper.   
“Yes,” Baz croaks.   
I look up at him and shake my head.   
“What happened to you hating me? You don’t like me, remember?”  
“Vividly,” he snaps.   
“Then what is this?”  
I look at the pictures again. Baz snatches them from me.   
“ _This_ is my deepest darkest shame.”  
“So… what does this mean? Are you-?”  
“Gay?” Baz finishes for me. He crosses his arms and turns away from me, “Clearly.”  
I hadn’t really thought of that. Am I gay? All I know is that I want Baz.  
“I was going to ask if you have feelings for me.”  
“Again, clearly,” Baz says flatly.   
“Then why are you so-”  
“Antagonistic?”  
“Stop finishing my sentences,” I shout.  
“Then speak faster,” Baz shouts back.   
“You’re infuriating, you know that?”  
“See? This is why I never told you. We hate each other. We aren’t supposed to be in love,” Baz yells. I see that he’s heading for the door so I grab his arm and pull him to me.  
“Well too fucking bad,” I growl.  
I hold him tight against my chest. We’re both breathing heavy now. His eyes are searching mine for a few breaths, then face falls. He starts to pull away.   
“Don’t,” I say softly.  
I loosen my grip on him slightly but cling on to the back of his shirt. I’m trying to think of a good argument against him leaving, then before I can say anything, Baz grabs the front of my shirt and crushes his lips to mine.  
This kiss is different from the one from my dream. It’s slower and lingering, yet more passionate. Instead of fast and erratic, it’s deep and consuming and oh, Crowley he’s grinding into me now. I slide my hands to his hips and tug upwards a bit, pressing us together. Baz’s hands are on my face and in my hair and all I can think is _more, more, more…_  
Baz’s tongue is cool against mine and he tastes like sweet tea. He kisses my mouth, hard, then my jaw, then my neck. It occurs to me that I’m allowing a vampire to kiss my neck, but the thought quickly fades when Baz pulls away. He’s breathless and as he swipes hair out of his eyes, all I’m thinking is that he’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.   
“We should have done that a long time ago,” I say.   
Baz snorts softly then frowns.  
“I’m not the Baz from your dream,” he says.  
I bring my hand up to his face and rub his cheek with my thumb.   
“I know exactly who you are,” I tell him.   
Baz folds his hand over mine and holds it in place.  
“In my dream, you said that if I still wanted you after I remembered everything, you would be mine.”  
“And you do,” he notes.  
“I do,” I agree.  
“Well then…”  
He pulls me in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated! Also, please let me know if there are any tropes/prompts you'd like for me to give a whirl. xxoo


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